Minor Confabulations
by Libbyish
Summary: In death, Mamiya is greeted by a strange man who speaks of freedom from the hell that is Ohtori Academy. Please R&R.


I honestly do not know how long I had been seated at the table before I noticed myself there. I certainly remember nothing of arriving there. One moment, I was seemingly nowhere, and the next, there I was, seated before a massive table crafted from dark marble.

Upon its surface rested goblets, also crafted of stone, filled to the brim with soft dust. Dull iron plates placed at each setting, and each one was filled with cold clay, almost black in color. At the head of the table, resting upon a massive throne, was a statue of the prince himself, chilly and unmoving. Voices laughed and conversed echoingly from the seats around me, though they were all empty. Save for one.

The boy across from me was seated with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, feet resting on the seat in front of him. He was pale, as was I; but they do say that death rides a pale horse, do they not? A smattering of freckles crossed his face, and his hair was straight and dark.

"Boy," I called to him, and he lifted his face to look at me. As he did, another image of himself glimmered across his face, but this one bore dark foreign skin and wavy hair of a whitish shade. "Pardon my intrusion, but how long have you been here?"

He muttered something I didn't quite catch. "What was that?"

"Mamiya," he mumbled sulkily. "My name isn't 'Boy,' it's Mamiya."

I was slightly annoyed at this, although he was quite right about what I had called him. "Well, Mamiya, would you care to answer my question?"

"I don't know how long," he said. "A long time before you arrived, for sure. It was just me and the hundred of them--"

"Them?"

"The ones you can hear but not see. I've been to where they think they are, once or twice: a silk-covered banquet table lined with wine and fruits. They know what's happened to them, but they don't know they're here, eating clay and grit. They believe they have surpassed the living."

A chill ran down my spine at that image. "So it's just been you, sitting down here in the dark for God knows how long?"

"Yes." He paused. "No." Another pause. "They raped me."

"They _what?_" I was shocked. "The hundred?"

"No, not them. And not in the way you think. They raped...they raped my memory. They used me after I died. They _violated_ me, there in life. Puppeted me, made me say things I'd never even think of, made me engage in...relations I was too young for. And now...I'm not sure of who I am anymore."

I regarded him with an expression of patient knowing. "You told me, not a moment ago, that you were Mamiya."

"Yes. But who is _Mamiya_?" He buried his face in his hands, the two images of him rippling in and out. As he began to cry, I reached across the table and grabbed a shaking hand. He locked eyes with me, shocked at my sudden grasp.

"They used me, too. I was dying when they got ahold of me. They extended my life for as long as it suited their purposes...and I went along with it, thinking I could beat them. Beat them at their own game? I think that's what we all expected to do, but we all failed. But not anymore. Don't you see? We don't have to play by their rules anymore, Mamiya."

"What do you mean?"

"We can leave, right now. Who's going to stop us? Him?" I indicated the marble statue of Dios at the head of the table.

"Who is he? I never found that out."

I pondered that for a moment. "A former prince. They say that's what _he_ used to be, long ago. But I think that memories have a way of growing larger than they are, a way of placing themselves on a pedestal. Personally, I think that statue is all there ever really was, or ever will be, of that prince." Yes, those words felt right, somehow. I might not have hit the truth exactly, but I had gotten something of it.

"So where are we going?"

I chuckled. "Well I, for one, would enjoy actually getting to _rest._ That's what the dead are entitled to, after all. Will you come to oblivion with me, Mamiya?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Yes, I think I will." He looked down, and I think he would have flushed, had he not been dead. "I'm afraid."

"It's a normal part of death, but I'll hold your hand when we go, if you'd like." My grip on his hand tightened slightly, as if to assure him of this.

"Yes, please...I think I'd like that. One more thing, if you don't mind...sempai, you never told me your name."

"Tsuchiya Ruka," I extolled gracefully, bowing slightly. "It has been a pleasure to know you for this short time, Mamiya, and to fade into the abyss with you. Shall we go?"

"Okay." He sounded grateful. So with all said and done, we slipped through that afterlife which had been so carefully designed for us, and embraced the void that followed.


End file.
